


mirrors (never work quite like they should)

by CoaxionUnlimited



Category: Castlevania (Cartoon)
Genre: An alternate universe is featured, Brazenly making up lore, Dimension Swap, Dimension Travel, Established Relationship, Features nudity and heavily implied sexytimes but nothing explicit, More angst than I intended but less than there probably should be, Multi, Unreliable Narrator, What-If, but this isnt technically an au, canon typical violence but not canon typical gore
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-10
Updated: 2019-08-31
Packaged: 2019-11-14 18:54:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 7,838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18058127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CoaxionUnlimited/pseuds/CoaxionUnlimited
Summary: Trevor Belmont, last of the Belmont line, goes to sleep in what was formerly Dracula's castle, on top of his half-vampire boyfriend and full blooded Speaker girlfriend.He wakes up in the middle of a fight, in a world where the Belmonts were never excommunicated and Lisa never burned. Occupying the trousers of Trevor Belmont, second in the line of Belmont succession, respected monster hunter (at least until he can figure out what happened) wouldn't be so bad - if it wasn't for the fact that he's supposed to be hunting down Dracula.And then there's the matter of what happened to the /other/ Trevor Belmont...





	1. Chapter 1

Trevor hated fighting witches.

For one, they were usually human. It wasn't a sentiment he liked to share - his father would never let him hear the end of it - but it felt to him like a betrayal of the Belmont name to kill people.

For another, the cleanup was usually astronomical. Nothing like black magic getting thrown around to make a massive bloody mess. The forest clearing they'd confronted the witch in was already torn to pieces, great gashes torn in the earth, the trees either splintered or grown into grasping hands that'd topple in a few weeks.

And a third: sometimes the motherfuckers got creative.

Case in point, Trevor was staying sidelined, letting his sister do the swordwork and picking off spell constructs with his whip, when all of a sudden the ground around his feet warped, dragging him down with muddy tendrils that looked disturbingly like hands and then, even more disturbingly, like writing.

And then Sonia gave a shout, and he looked up just in time to see the witch's fingers pointed directly at his face.

"Change!" The witch bellowed, and-

\--

There should be some law against magical forces interrupting a perfectly good nap.

Or at least, some kind of ban in polite company. Having been awoken by nearly every variety of magic that could wake a man, from Alucard startling and teleporting without remembering that he was serving as a pillow, to Sypha misfiring a spell in the next room and dousing him in shrapnel, Trevor Belmont felt uniquely qualified to opine on the subject of magical awakenings.

In his expert opinion, going from pleasantly dozing to fully awake, upright, and quite obviously in the middle of a fight was a bitch and a _half_.

He'd have to yell at Sypha, Alucard, or both (most likely, the accidents got worse when they worked together) later - for now there was some old guy drenched in swamp water and black magic screaming at him, and that needed to be dealt with.

Wherever he was doing here, he didn't have the Morningstar with him. That was well enough, the old man didn't look like a vampire and he'd have to be an especially demonish humanoid for his ordinary whip not to serve. He swept the whip's razor edge forward to wind around the man's arm and yanked him towards himself, winding up and slamming an immensely satisfying haymaker into the old guy's face.

The blow sent him flying, landing sprawled in a muddy puddle. Trevor began winding his whip to strike again, but a blur of dark hair and white armor beat him to it, cutting the man's head off in a single perfect blow.

Trevor let out a deep breath, and then, remembering how he'd gone to sleep, looked down and checked that he was wearing pants.

He was, mercifully, fully clothed.

Thank Christ the spell had done that at least. Perhaps he'd not dunk Alucard's head in holy water for this one.

Clothes accounted for, Trevor shook himself free of the earth inexplicably wrapped around his feet and started towards the swordswoman, who was kneeling to wipe her blade. Hopefully, she'd have some idea of where he was - finding his own way home was probably faster than waiting for Alucard or Sypha to track him down.

She looked up as he approached, and there was something about her face - no, it couldn't be. He didn't realize that he'd stopped, frozen in place by the realization that was creeping up on him, until she furrowed her brow and questioned,

"Trevor?"

"Sonia," he breathed, and forget the holy water, he was going to flat out stab Alucard, and probably Sypha too, for putting him through this. "No, you're _dead_ -"

"Trevor," she stood, holding her hands out, reaching for him, "Whatever the witch showed you, it was an illusion. I am alive and -"

Trevor caught her wrists before her hands could touch him. "You've been dead for fifteen years," he said, keeping his voice flat by sheer force of will, "and I don't know how-"

He was interrupted by a man's voice, from the other side of the clearing.

"Trevor?"

He looked up, and found himself face to face with another ghost. " _Father_?" 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My headcanon - and my canon unless the show says otherwise - is that holy water doesn't seriously hurt Alucard. It does, however, give him a nasty rash, which in turn causes him to break out, which in turn causes him to mope for weeks, which in turn is a pretty good revenge on Sypha.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there is a massive dearth of clothes.
> 
> EDIT: I managed to miss, somehow, that Alucard in canon has his fangs when he's having regular conversations. I am the person who'd die first in a vampire movie, it's me. For the purposes of me not having to rewrite this chapter, let's pretend that Alucard only gets fangy when he's trying to look intimidating, or about to drink someone's blood.

The smart thing to do, Trevor thought hazily, would be to get up right now, immediately, and make for the Belmont keep as quickly as possible. 

The problem with this plan is that he had, currently, all the physical capacity of a pile of wet string. It felt like five ordinary afterglows had ganged up on him in a back alley and left him a puddle of warm, mostly useless muscle. 

He made a valiant effort to force his eyes open, but someone's fingers scratched gently across his scalp, and a man's deep voice rumbled in his ear, "Sleep, Trevor." 

So he did. 

-

When he woke, it was because a particularly persistent beam of sunlight was spearing itself through his eyelids. He made to move, before he remembered he had no idea where he was, had been hit with an unfamiliar spell, and had been unconscious for God only knew how long, and his luck meant that was several hours for the situation to get worse. 

So he opened his eyes. His cheek was mashed into a (naked) man's chest, his arm extended to rest his fingers on someone else's bare shoulder. He'd been drooling. 

Nothing about that seemed particularly dangerous to anything but his pride, so he carefully levered himself off of his ersatz pillow, minding the aches. There were a lot of aches. Whatever he'd gotten up to with these people, it had to have been incredibly athletic. 

To Trevor's relief, there were only two people in the bed. The man, alabaster pale and golden haired, his face turned towards his pillow, and on his other side a woman (also naked) with short red curls, tucked into the curve of his arm. They made a pretty picture, he thought, guiltily. Still, he forced himself to look away. 

It didn't truly matter who these people were, or how he'd gotten here, or even what had happened last night. He had to get back to his family - preferably after undoing whatever magic had brought him here. 

Though first he probably ought to find some pants. 

Trevor poked gingerly around the room in search of his clothes - or at least clothes that fit him. It was difficult to do quietly, or at least without moving any furniture, but he managed. Or at least, he thought he did, until a sleepy voice from the bed asked:

"What are you doing, Trevor?"

He glanced guiltily back at the bed. The woman was propped up on her elbows, facing him. 

"Um," he said, intelligently, and tried to think of a good lie. "I was just... going?"

Great job, Trevor. Truly a shining example of the famous Belmont cunning. 

The woman looked much more awake now, and suspicious, her brow furrowed in apparent confusion. 

"Going where?" she asked. 

"Uh, home?" She looked at him like he'd grown a second head. "To the Belmont keep, I mean." 

She looked at him like the second head had eaten the first and started spouting enochian love poetry. 

"Adrian-" she said, and Trevor lost the rest of her sentence under oh shit the blond guy's awake and oh fuck he's fast and oh God why is he in my personal space. 

He didn't get his wits about him in time to stop the blond guy (Adrian?) from grabbing him by the face. He flinched, or tried to, but Adrian's grip was like iron, even if all he was doing was delicately pulling back Trevor's eyelid to take a good long look at his eye. 

He's naked, Trevor's brain reminded him, helpfully. And so are you. And he's sure looking very interested in something. 

Adrian drew back, to Trevor's considerable relief, and started poking at the back of his skull. 

"He doesn't seem to have a concussion," the other man reported, releasing Trevor entirely and letting him scramble a few steps back to the relative safety of his own personal bubble. 

"But-" the woman frowned. "Trevor, how old are you?"

"Twenty-eight." He pitched it like a question. "Why are you all acting like I've hit my head?"

"Because the Belmont home burned fifteen years ago," Adrian said, looking at Trevor's face like Sonia looked at arcane texts that were fighting her translation, "and we are housed directly above the remains."

"What?"


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there is exposition.

The problem with this, Trevor thought, was that the knee in his gut felt terribly real. 

He'd met his fair share of illusions - facing them was a nasty but necessary part of fighting monsters. And for all he knew this couldn't be real, it didn't seem like one. 

Mostly, the magic stuff worked off of what was already in your head. If it wanted you to feel safe, it made you see the place where you felt the safest. If it wanted you to be afraid, it plucked your worst fear out of your head and made you live it. Setting aside that he'd never seen Sonia as an adult, never even thought to imagine it, he can't think of what an illusion of him being pinned to the ground by his sister would be meant to achieve. 

"What did you say happened?" he wheezed. 

"Are you going to listen this time?" she demanded. 

That was a fair question, given that last time she'd tried to talk, he'd taken advantage of her distraction to make a break for it. 

"Not like I can do much else," Trevor grumbled. 

"If I let you up," (possibly) Sonia began, "will you try to run?" 

There was really no honest answer Trevor could give to that question, so he stayed silent. 

"Right then," she muttered, then took a deep breath and started talking. 

"You got hit with a spell. We were fighting a witch, he called up something to trap you in place, and whammied you. No one died, got seriously injured, or whatever else you think happened."

"What was the spell?" Trevor asked, chest sinking with suspicion. 

"How should I know?" Sonia grumbled, "I'm not a witch."

"Do you remember any of the runes?" he asked.

"You're not a witch either," she scolded, leaning back, her weight leaving him just slightly.

"Is that a no?"

Something scraped on the ground, and his father bent into his field of vision. Trevor lost a few seconds to the instinctive flinch of seeing a face long dead. Sonia was one thing, her face only similar to the preteen girl he once knew, but his father seemed hardly older than he once was. 

The exact words weren't important, the symbols his father was tracing into the dirt by his face were. He had a photographic memory, Tremor remembered with a pang, useful for these sorts of things and also for not getting lost in a monster's lair. 

And then he frowned. 

"That's a spell for transformation - turning you into a frog or whatnot."

"You're sure," Sonia said, half a question. 

"Last time I saw some of these, I spent three days as a mongoose. It was a memorable experience." 

Memorable, but not particularly unpleasant. He'd spent most of it sitting in one of Sypha's huge Speaker pockets, or clinging to her shoulders, or, memorably, tucked into her hood while it was down. Alucard had tried to carry him a few times, but the vampire's pockets were mostly decorative, and his shirts so thin that climbing or clinging meant leaving claw marks. Still, he'd been glad to have his voice again at the end of the whole debacle. 

He tapped one of the middle runes, weaseling his arm out of Sonia's surprise-limp fingers. 

"This one, you're sure about it?"

"Perfectly," his father said, in that dry, soothing tone he used to talk magic. 

Trevor hummed. "It's not right."

"Is that why you're not a mongoose?" Sonia seemed caught between disbelief and derision.

"I think -" Trevor frowned, then winced, as suspicion caught him. "It's meant to govern the shape- I guess you'd say. I weigh more than a mongoose, so it pushes all the extra somewhere else while it changes the shape of what's left. The way the tail is drawn - here," he pointed, "It's touching the part that represents the soul, not the body." 

"Your point?" Sonia demanded. 

"I think that the original occupant of this body is running around in mine."

-

They didn't fully believe him - which was fair. It had been a lot of guesswork, based on his fuzzy memory of Sypha muttering her way through the countercurse. But illusions couldn't create new memories, or truly erase old ones, and it turned out that he didn't share  
much of those with other!Trevor. 

"If we keep moving, our path will cross with a tribe of Speakers," Trevor's father said, in his quiet way, "They'll know more than any of us about what the spell was meant to do." 

Trevor couldn't argue with that. 

"Where are we going, anyways?" Trevor asked, poking through the other Trevor's traveling pack. 

"Off to Gresit," Sonia said, with an edge to her tone.

"Gresit, huh," Trevor said, trying to keep his voice neutral. It was probably just a coincidence.

"There are rumors in the area of a great castle that moves at its master's will," his father cut in. "And of cattle, found drained of blood."

"Perhaps they're just rumors," Sonia said, "but if they aren't, we may be closer to Dracula than any Belmont has been in centuries." 

Shit.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Trevor finally gets some pants and things go downhill from there

This was a nightmare. It had to be. One of those dreams where he showed up to a hunt without pants and got horribly eaten.

That certainty was what let him shut his eyes, take a deep breath, and say, firmly, "No."

"No?" Adrian sounded horribly amused.

Trevor held up both of his hands. "This is clearly some kind of horrible dream and any minute now some nasty monster is going to crash through the wall and eat me. And then I'll wake up to my very alive family worrying over me and have a laugh over how odd this all was."

The woman frowned, folding her arms under her - nope nevermind he was keeping his eyes on her face, lest his mother somehow figure this out.

"Why do you think that?" she asked.

"Sypha-" Adrian began, but she waved him off, looking at Trevor with intense eyes.

"Well, it's pretty obvious, given that the last thing I remember is a witch yelling a spell at me. 'Sides, I always die in dreams where I don't have my pants."

"So if we got you some pants, you'd realize this isn't a dream?"

Trevor narrowed his eyes at her. This was not part of the usual script.

"I'd be willing to consider it," he said, slowly.

-

Ten minutes later, everyone was fully clothed and Trevor was being prodded with something that looked like a divining rod while Sypha and Adrian argued over what he called readings and she called results.

Illusions worked with your mind, Trevor thought, feeling the tension creeping up his spine. He'd never heard half of the words they were flinging about, never seen half of the instruments that were settled delicately on the sturdy oak table. This was real, and if it was real now, it always had been.

That wasn't a pleasant thought. At best, he was in a huge and ominous castle with two people entirely too familiar with dark (or at least not-holy) magic for his comfort.

At worst, he was trapped in a huge and ominous castle with two dark magicians and no one to call for backup. Because his entire family was dead.

Sypha broke into this train of thought by calling his name. "Trevor, we're done."

"As done as possible, given how little you remember about the spell itself." Adrian's tone was just this side of mocking. It set Trevor's teeth on edge.

Sypha jammed her elbow into the other man's ribs, and kept talking.

"You're Trevor Belmont, but not our Trevor Belmont. I've got no idea how you got here, but we're going to send you back."

Well, that was good. Probably.

Assuming she was telling the truth.

The smart thing to do would be to leave it there. Not piss off the dark magicians until he had a good reason to do it.

But they bred Belmonts for bravery, not brains, so he squared his shoulders, and asked,

"Am I free to go?"

Sypha and Adrian turned to look at him, obviously nonplussed.

"Go where?" Sypha was frowning at him. She looked - hurt, maybe?

"You know, if I wanted to step out for a walk. Get some fresh air." Trevor tried to keep the subtext to a minimum, but he couldn't help the faint irony in his tone.

"We need you here to undo the spell," she said, "If it's not necessary -"

"We would rather not take a chance on losing you," Adrian said, with an edge to his voice that meant he'd picked up on Trevor's real meaning. "And I'm sure you'd like to get home as expediently as possible."

"Assuming, of course, that it's your intention to send me there." Trevor folded his arms over his chest.

"You don't trust us," Sypha said, definitely hurt this time.

"I have no reason to." It came out more defensively than he intended it.

"Perhaps not," Adrian cut in, sounding cool and unmoved, "But we can at least prove we're telling the truth about one thing."

-

Trevor did not so much kneel in the wreckage of his ancestral home as his knees suddenly decided to fail him at the sight.

He had faced horrors in his time, every Belmont had. Vampires and demons, shapeshifters and witches. He'd known the world wasn't a safe place from the moment he was old enough to understand safety, and he'd thought he was used to it.

But, he'd also known that the Belmont family was there to fight the tide of the darkness. No matter what evil he found, there was someone who had fought it before, or who would fight it with him. There was a security in that knowledge that had carried him through darkness no fire could light. And now it was gone.

For the first time in his life, he was truly alone.

_Fuck_.


	5. Chapter 5

"That is a stupid fucking idea," Trevor snapped, and then, "Ouch."

"Language, Trevor," his father said, quellingly, "There's a lady present." 

"Like Sonia doesn't know what fuck means," he snarked, but held up his hands in surrender when his father glared at him. "That's not my point. The point is, you're going to get killed." 

"Belmonts have been getting killed fighting vampires for generations," Sonia cut in. "You'll have to do better than that if you want to scare us." 

"I'm not trying to scare you." Trevor scrubbed the back of his hand across his eyes, trying not to think of the Belmont home burning, of the screaming that came from it. "I just - look, ordinary vampires, you've got a good chance at killing them. Dracula is not an ordinary vampire."

"Yeah, yeah, Lord of the Night, leader of all vampires, all that." Sonia rolled her eyes. "Doesn't mean he can't be killed."

"Oh, he can be killed," Trevor felt his voice go tight and grim. "But we aren't equipped to do it." 

Sonia scoffed, but something about his tone made his father's gaze sharpen. "Trevor," he said, "if you know something about how to defeat Dracula - you must tell us. It could mean our lives."

"I fought Dracula," Trevor said, slowly, "with two of the most powerful fighters I've ever met at my back and the weight of prophecy behind us. And the only reason I'm still alive to talk about it is because he had a crisis of conscience and let himself get killed." He took a deep breath. "Here and now, I don't even have the Morningstar. Father, if you're interested in our lives, do not do this."

"You'll have to lie a bit better than that," Sonia said, sharply, "the Morningstar is an old family myth. No one really thinks that Leon Belmont's magical vampire slaying whip is hiding itself in the family vault until someone with a real chance of confronting Dracula comes along. If it existed, we'd have found it by now." 

Trevor took a moment to process that. 

It made a startling, horrible amount of sense. "Huh," he said aloud, absently noticing Sonia and his father trading looks. 

"I understand that you're scared," his father began, in a 'talking to the civilian' tone that grated on Trevor's nerves like a hacksaw on piano wire, "but this is our duty. If you wish to leave after we meet with the Speakers-"

"I'm not scared for _myself,_ " Trevor snapped. 

"And I have been taking my children to face insurmountable danger for _decades_ ," his father snarled- snarled! Fucking hell. "Dracula is the most dangerous vampire that has ever been. No Belmont would leave that threat unchecked." 

Distantly, Trevor knew that that was meant to hit him hard. But after the first breathless wave of hurt, he found himself just- cold. 

Once upon a time, it would have killed him to hear his father accuse him of not being worthy of the family name. Ripped his heart out of his chest and stomped it straight into the ground. But now-

He'd known for years that his family wouldn't approve of what he'd done with his life. The drinking, the cynicism- and then the whole thing where he was fucking Dracula's son. And, yeah, partly he'd done it because he'd known he'd never have to face their disapproval, because they weren't around to disapprove. 

The thing was - at twelve, Trevor had thought his father hung the moon. Had looked at him and seen some divine font of wisdom that knew everything and was never wrong. Fifteen years later, fifteen years of defying every authority figure in sight and reluctantly growing up, he looked at his father and saw a man. 

And it was a surprise, sure, to look at his father and see someone who wasn't used to people telling him no, who was in the habit of leading and being right, making decisions and following them through, no matter the cost. Who wouldn't back down on this, not because he was operating on logic, but because blind determination usually worked for him. 

But the bit of Trevor that made the tactical calls didn't care that his father was the head of the Belmont family, or that he'd had nightmares about this for years. It saw his father and said, you are wrong. And it said, I am not going to let any more of my family die. 

So Trevor looked away, chest tight with something that felt horribly like disappointment, and thought: I'm going to have to be sneaky about this, aren't I?

-

It took the rest of the day to get to Moreni, where they were meant to be meeting the Speakers.

It was, naturally, the most awkward four hours he'd ever spent travelling. His father wasn't speaking to him; Trevor wasn't angry, exactly, but he still felt raw and definitely uninclined to makel the first move to reconcile. And Sonia really didn't have the personality for mediation. 

Even with Adrian- Alucard, then - travelling had never been awkward. They'd had plenty of reason to dislike each other, or so Trevor had thought, but that had never stopped them talking. It had been mostly insults, at first, calculated needling that turned mindless, cushioned by something he hadn't been willing to name. 

God, he missed them. 

Trevor clamped down on that thought, pushing it out of his head. Brooding wouldn't do him any good. 

-

His father apparently knew the head of the Speaker tribe - obvious, in hindsight, since he'd known where they were going to be however much in advance. 

Trevor tuned out the pleasantries, trying to figure out what it was about the old man that was so familiar. He glanced at the Speakers flanking him for a clue and, oh!

"Sypha!" Trevor found himself taking an involuntary step towards her, beaming. 

There was sudden, dead silence. Sypha, from beneath her hood, was giving him the wary look that meant she was debating whether or not she should roast the poor bastard in front of her. 

"Pardon me," the head Speaker said, carefully polite, "But how did you know the name of my granddaughter?" 

Oops. Trevor tore his eyes away from Sypha, and took a deep breath, but his father beat him to the explanation. 

"That's why we're here," he said, "he caught a spell in our last fight, and-" Yadda yadda. Trevor tuned him out, quietly berating himself for the slip. Of course this Trevor wouldn't know who Sypha was, the Speakers would certainly want to keep their young women out of the way of strange noblemen. 

The Speakers (Sypha included) bunched together and made for one of the tents in the center of the camp. Trevor made to follow, but Sonia caught his arm, tugging him back.

"They're going to take a look at the spell," she said, "we'll be of no help. Besides, I wanted to ask you something." 

"Yeah?" Trevor braced himself. 

"What does fuck mean?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear to god, this fic was less angsty in my head. At least we should be done with the worst of it after this chapter. 
> 
> ...
> 
> Or maybe the chapter after that.


	6. Chapter 6

Trevor wasn't sure how long he'd spent kneeling in the ashes of his childhood home, but given that he'd completely lost track of time, it had been _too damn long _.__

__"I'm sorry," Sypha said, with such perfectly sincere sympathy that it made Trevor twitch. Father would kill him- the first rule of monster hunting, the one no Belmont was supposed to forget was simple: _never _show weakness.___ _

____"If you need more time, you can take it," she continued, "but-"_ _ _ _

____"You need to get into the vault," Trevor said wearily, pushing himself to his feet. It made sense; his family had several dozen shelves worth of information on countercurses. If there was any way for him to get back, it would be there._ _ _ _

____He dug out his belt knife. Neither of them had, so far, objected to him arming himself, though he hadn't found more than the knife. Either they were entirely confident they could subdue him, if it came to it, or they thought he wouldn't try them._ _ _ _

____He refused to think the word trust._ _ _ _

____On unsteady feet, Trevor made his way to the vault entrance. He took a breath, murmured a prayer, and pricked his finger on the tip of the knife, letting a single drop of blood splash onto the carved stone below._ _ _ _

____With a whoosh, the entire thing dissolved into blue-white feathers, revealing the stairs down to the hold below._ _ _ _

____He turned back, to see Sypha gaping, Adrian's brows raised. He could hardly blame them. It was an impressive thing, the gate to his family's legacy._ _ _ _

____-_ _ _ _

____"Why does it look like someone had a pitched battle here, Sypha?"_ _ _ _

____"Certainly not because there was one, or anything. Right, Adrian?"_ _ _ _

____"Totally."_ _ _ _

____-_ _ _ _

____In the depths of the Belmont hold, Trevor found himself relaxing. Hundreds, maybe thousands of years worth of the family work was recorded here, and it always made his problems seem small, transient. There might not be any living members of his family, but that did not mean the Belmonts were dead._ _ _ _

____"Countercurses are here," Trevor said, stepping off the staircase onto the third level. "And I think transmutation specifically..." he trailed off, poking his head between two shelves to check their labels._ _ _ _

____"Does your family have anything on space-time?" Adrian asked, from much closer than Trevor had expected him._ _ _ _

____"I don't know what that is," Trevor replied, in lieu of flinching. "If it's some kind of magical construct -"_ _ _ _

____"No," Adrian said, sounding faintly disappointed, "there's more likely to be information on it in my father's library, regardless. Sypha?"_ _ _ _

____"Hm?" She'd had her head buried in one of the books. "Go on, Adrian, I'll be fine. Especially if Trevor is willing to help me."_ _ _ _

____"Of course," Trevor said, absently, more focused on pulling out a likely book than the words, "what kind of Belmont would I be if I couldn't navigate my own library?"_ _ _ _

____No one answered, but by the time he'd noticed, Adrian was already gone._ _ _ _

____-_ _ _ _

____"So," Trevor said, passing Sypha on his way to set down another stack of promising books, "you clearly know, well, enough about my family." He gestured to the keep. "But I know nothing about yours."_ _ _ _

____"And this place makes you think of family," Sypha set another book in the discard pile, and looked up at him._ _ _ _

____Trevor shrugged. He'd meant to get information, not give it up._ _ _ _

____"I suppose it's a fair question," she said, extending one leg to stretch it. "I am a Speaker, and though my tribe's name isn't meant for outsiders, they are my family."_ _ _ _

____"Oh," Trevor said, feeling something in him relax. Speakers were allies, and their magicians were not dark. "When are you returning to them, then?"_ _ _ _

____Speakers very rarely left their tribes for any length of time - Father had been frustrated by it more than once, when trying to get magical aid for a hunt._ _ _ _

____"They will be passing through this area in a few weeks," Sypha said, her tone slightly cooler. "There will be time to visit then."_ _ _ _

____"And you'll leave with them, I expect," Trevor brushed his fingers over the spine of another book, leaning down to read the title._ _ _ _

____"No," Sypha said shortly._ _ _ _

____"No?" Trevor stood up to look at her, baffled. "But surely they miss you - your parents -"_ _ _ _

____"My parents are dead," Sypha's face was set._ _ _ _

____"But they're still your family," Trevor said stubbornly, "you belong with them."_ _ _ _

____"I do not," Sypha said, in a tone that didn't invite argument. "Trevor, my parents died when I was 14."_ _ _ _

____"So-?" She cut him off with a sharp jerk of her head._ _ _ _

____"My mother was a midwife, my father her assistant. They stayed behind to help a young woman who had become pregnant without a husband and - and somehow her father came to tell the church that there were Speakers in his barn."_ _ _ _

____Trevor winced. The Speakers had no love for the church, and the feeling was returned with interest._ _ _ _

____"They were stoned at dawn." Sypha's voice was dull, but her eyes were alive with cold fire. "Our tribe didn't get word until much later, until it was nearly too late to run."_ _ _ _

____"And they took you with them." Trevor could see how that might breed a little resentment._ _ _ _

____"No," Sypha said. "The next day I snuck back and burnt that motherfucking church to the ground."_ _ _ _

____Trevor froze. "Did you kill anyone?" he breathed._ _ _ _

____He didn't know if he could blame her, or what he might do if she said yes, but he had to ask._ _ _ _

____Sypha made a derisive noise in the back of her throat. "Did I kill anyone? I don't know. If there were people in that church, I didn't see them escape. I didn't aim for more death, if that's what you were asking."_ _ _ _

____"Sorry," Trevor said._ _ _ _

____"It was the first thing my grandfather asked, when I made my way back to the tribe. No one thanked me for it, even though I had half expected them to. I thought I understood why - it didn't exactly improve things with the church."_ _ _ _

____"They hunted you," Trevor said, slightly sick._ _ _ _

____"For years. It made our life harder, and after that, my family never treated me quite the same."_ _ _ _

____"They were afraid of you," Trevor said softly._ _ _ _

____"Not as such." Sypha sighed. "Before that, they knew I had the potential to be a strong magician, but no one knew what kind. I had no talent for healing, or moving earth, and the only water I could summon came as ice. After-"_ _ _ _

____She raised a hand, and fire twined around her fingers like an affectionate cat._ _ _ _

____"It was clear. My affinity was for fire."_ _ _ _

____"That doesn't sound like a bad thing," Trevor noted._ _ _ _

____"Not to a Belmont, maybe. But to Speakers - we are healers and storytellers, Trevor. We help people. We do not fight monsters and we do not wage war. And there is no use for fire in anything but."_ _ _ _

____"They didn't kick you out," Trevor said, sure. There would be more resentment if they had._ _ _ _

____"No," Sypha agreed, "and they love me still. But they had no use for me. Here, I can do good."_ _ _ _

____"What good does fire do here?" Trevor asked. "Surely you're not using it on the books."_ _ _ _

____Sypha laughed, bright humor lightening the heaviness in her eyes. "What, did you think the last Belmont chose to give up the family profession? You and Adrian and I - we defend the land against monsters."_ _ _ _

____And she turned back to the shelf, apparently having made her point._ _ _ _

____Trevor moved slower. He hadn't thought - well, he would always have said that the Belmonts would fight to the last. But he'd never thought it'd be him. And apparently, he'd not given himself enough credit._ _ _ _

____He'd wondered if he'd be brave enough to keep fighting. It seemed his other self had made that choice for him._ _ _ _

____Trevor picked out another book from the shelf, and found his mind turning to the third member of his- well, whatever these people were to each other. (He very determinedly did not think threesome.)_ _ _ _

____Would asking Adrian about his family spring a similar trap of pain and grief? The other man had mentioned his father, at least, as the owner of the castle._ _ _ _

____Perhaps that father had been part of the Belmonts' death here, and he had decided to help out of remorse? But no, castles took much longer than fifteen years to build, especially one of this size. Maybe it had been moved?_ _ _ _

____But he'd only heard of one castle moving and that one was-_ _ _ _

____Trevor's book thudded to the ground._ _ _ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If your fave doesn't have a canon tragic backstory, store-bought is fine. 
> 
> I deleted 80% of this chapter while trying to post it orz. If you see any quality issues that's why.


	7. Chapter 7

"Speakers!" Was Sonia's first comment after they'd finished thoroughly embarrassing each other. 

"What about them?" Trevor asked. With Sypha around, Speakers were pretty much a monthly occurrence; if not regular as clockwork, then at least not worth exclaiming over. 

"They're one of our greatest allies, but I've never gotten to speak to them."

"Why not?" Trevor grunted. 

"Some aunt's cousin's grandson ran off with one once, I don't know." Sonia shrugged. "The point is, they're people I can talk to without pretending I don't know what a sword is. Oh, look! Dinner!"

And indeed, there was dinner. Trevor grabbed a bowl of some generic stew and made to find a seat near Sypha without looking like he was following her. This was a challenge, since she chose to sit on the very edge of the group, which had bunched in on itself to avoid her. 

Luckily for him, she was too absorbed in whatever problem they'd set her back in the tent to pay much mind to him. He settled at a respectful distance, and tried to dig into his soup. 

If he closed his eyes, it could almost have been an evening at home. Sypha muttering to herself over some arcane problem she'd set herself, tracing runes on the table. 

But if he'd been at home, there would have been Adrian, helping Sypha and mocking her by turns, until she gave up on work and tried to scorch him across the table. For someone who loved playing peacemaker as much as she did, she was easy to rile. 

And then Trevor's brooding was interrupted by a clatter and a stomping of feet and Sonia dropping down beside him. 

Looking at Sonia was safer than checking if Sypha had noticed the commotion, so he did. 

"I thought you were going to socialise," Trevor said, pointedly. 

"Dad thought you might need a chaperone," she tipped her head at Sypha, who had definitely noticed them, Christ. 

"I-" Trevor spent several seconds spluttering, "I'm not- I wouldn't-" He darted a glance at Sypha, who was looking at him more like a puzzle to be solved than a threat to be burned, thankfully. 

But she _was_ looking at him. So much for avoiding this conversation. 

"You knew me," Sypha said. "From the moment you saw me."

"Uh," Trevor couldn't think of anything to say that wouldn't be incriminating. 

"And I've never seen you before in my life. So we met in the other world. The place you came from." 

Trevor nodded. He should have expected that she'd figure it out, Sypha was a genius. 

"So." Sypha said, leaning forward, elbows on her knees. 

"So?" Trevor made to mirror her, and caught an elbow to the ribs from Sonia. "Ow!"

"Leave room for Jesus," Sonia said, cheerfully. 

"You're enjoying this," Trevor muttered, rubbing his side. 

"It's my solemn duty as a Belmont to protect the virtue of young ladies everywhere," Sonia shot him a shit eating grin. "It's only fitting that I enjoy myself." 

"I can protect my own virtue, thanks," Sypha deadpanned.

"It's really no trouble." Sonia widened her eyes, the picture of earnest innocence. It was, Trevor thought, disturbingly similar to his own expression when trying to convince Sypha that no, really, Alucard had just fallen into the holy water all on his own. 

Sypha, of course, didn't buy it from either of them. 

"I wanted to ask," she said flatly, "How we met. In the other world, I mean. It must have been memorable." 

"You could say that," Trevor grinned, and at her flat look, elaborated, "I saved you from a stone-eye cyclops." 

"A stone-eye cyclops!" Sonia breathed. "I thought they were extinct. How did you beat it? Did you inlay a rune circle- or no, it would have been best to gather phoenix ash and-"

"I stabbed it through the eye," Trevor said, flatly. 

"Oh," Sonia deflated a little. "Well, I suppose that would work." 

"What I want to know," Sypha said, "is why I was fighting a stone-eye cyclops in the first place. I can't imagine seeking one out- was it attacking the others?" She indicated the other Speakers, still a careful distance away from them. 

"No, you were-" Trevor paused, trying to put thoughts to words. "You were searching for someone. Dracula was- there was a prophecy about killing him." 

"Actually there are several." Sypha said, and then added, with great interest, "do you happen to know which one?" 

"Not as such," Trevor said, and then added, "Though I recall you calling him the Sleeping Soldier." 

Sypha choked on her mouthful of soup. When she'd finished coughing - Trevor had decided that crossing the fire to thump her on the back would not have much helped - she wheezed, "You're sure it was the Sleeping Soldier?" 

"Fairly," Trevor said. 

"And did I- did we find him?"

"Yes?" She'd turned a frankly concering shade of red. "Sypha are you-"

"I'm fine," Sypha said, sounding rather the opposite.

"What I don't get," Sonia cut in, sounding distinctly unconcerned, "is why there's more than one prophecy about Dracula's death. Surely he only needs to be killed once." 

It did seem a little odd, now that Trevor thought about it, though if anyone would need to be killed more than once for it to take...

"Not every prophecy comes true," Sypha said, sounding much more confident now that there was something for her to explain. "The future is always changing, and the path it takes can be altered by the slightest of choices. Sometimes that path leads away from the events that would make a prophecy relevant." 

"Is that why your people are so reluctant to tell them?" Sonia seemed deeply interested, as though this had been a point of debate. 

"Partially," Sypha said, "it's also, in part, because they are not always clear. What a prophecy says and what it means - can be different." 

"And I'd bet that if you told someone a prophecy of their death, they'd figure out how to avoid it," Trevor commented. 

"No," Sypha replied, "if a prophecy is relevant, it will always come to pass. Though not, perhaps, in the way you might think. Trevor - did I ever tell you the whole tale of the Sleeping Soldier?"

"No," Trevor said, "we found him, we killed Dracula. It didn't seem relevant after that." 

"Well, the prophecy doesn't end there," Sypha stopped, apparently to fortify herself. "After the Soldier, the Hunter, and the Scholar defeat Dracula, they, ah. Live happily ever after." 

Trevor scoffed. "I suppose-"

"Together," Sypha said, with an emphasis that he couldn't quite parse. 

"Yeah?" he said. It didn't seem so extraordinary to him. 

"Sexually," Sypha hissed, and then, seeming to realize what she'd said, buried her face in her hands. 

"Oh," Trevor tried to think of something to say to that, and found he couldn't. It explained why Adrian had gone to sleep shirtless. Probably. Though it really did not explain why it had taken six months after the fact for anyone to broach the topic of sex. 

Good lord, they could have started sleeping together in _Gresit_. They could have skipped all of the agonizing, awkward, will-they-won't-they did Alucard invite both of us to his bedroom or did I just wish he had bullshit. Hell, they might even have gotten around the bit where everyone thought everyone else was the vertex of a different love triangle. 

The next time Sypha called him an idiot he was going to _rub this in her face_.


	8. Chapter 8

"Oh my God," Trevor said, faintly. "I fucked Dracula's son."

Sypha, who had turned at the noise, stopped mid word to blink at him, her mouth going slightly slack. 

"I fucked Dracula's son. Sypha, _why did I do that _?"__

__She took a moment - seemingly to sort through possible replies, before saying: "Because he's hot?"_ _

__"Of course he's hot," Trevor hissed. "He's a fucking vampire. They're all hot!"_ _

__He paused, thought that sentence through. "No- he was in the sunlight earlier. He can't be- I'm an idiot-"_ _

__"No, that was rather astute of you," Sypha said, more calmly than the situation warranted. "He's a half-vampire actually - are you alright, Trevor?"_ _

__"Someone fucked Dracula," Trevor whispered, with perfect horror._ _

__"Really, it's better if you don't think about it," Sypha told him, which might have approached commiseration if she hadn't sounded so amused. "Apparently his mother was a lovely woman. Very brave."_ _

__"No shit," Trevor said, faintly. And then, he realized that she had successfully distracted him from his real question, which was, "Sypha, sleeping with Dracula's son is a good way to end up _dead _. Why did I do it?"___ _

____She stared at him for a moment, approaching serious for the first time in the conversation. "Did it not occur to you that you- other you- likes him?"_ _ _ _

____Trevor tripped over what was wrong with that, wound up spluttering for a few seconds. And before he could collect himself enough to say something coherent in response, there was a breath of wind, and from behind him, Adrian said, "I've brought lunch."_ _ _ _

____Trevor clamped down on a what would have been a very manly shriek._ _ _ _

____-_ _ _ _

____Halfway through his second bite of bread, Trevor gave up on wisdom and decided that confrontation was the better path. He chewed, swallowed, and said, "You're Dracula's son."_ _ _ _

____Adrian almost looked surprised at that, raising an eyebrow and darting a glance at Sypha. Who shrugged, and said, "It's not like he's wrong."_ _ _ _

____"How did you figure it out?" Adrian's tone might almost have been casual, had it not been for the eerie focus of those yellow eyes. God, Trevor really should have figured this out sooner - no human had eyes that color. No human could sit that still._ _ _ _

____But he'd thought- no, he'd assumed, that his other self had had some sense of self-preservation. Given that he was having _threesomes _in _Dracula's castle _, that was clearly untrue._____ _ _ _

________"It was the castle," Trevor admitted, and hoped that was enough._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________"Ah," Adrian said, "it is somewhat distinctive." He grinned, predator-wide, and added, "At least you don't seem to have mistaken me for my father this time."_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________Trevor made a choking noise, tried not to imagine how much worse everything would be if it were Dracula sitting in front of him._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________-_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________Adrian stood too close to him, as they walked out of the hold. Trevor found that it grated on his nerves, more than it had any right to. Was it a habit, was he confusing him with the other Trevor? Was it a vampire thing? They always were keen on invading personal space._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________Most importantly, would he give chase if Trevor stepped away?_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________Trevor gave it a try. Adrian didn't seem to notice, caught up in a conversation with Sypha on their way up the stairs._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________It gave him time to think, which wasn't really a good thing. The questions in his head churned and boiled and suddenly, burst,_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________"Why are you doing this? Why am I here? You don't seem to be trying to enchant me, but I can't think of any other reason I would consent to bring a vampire into the Belmont keep. Or that Dracula would suffer a Belmont to live in his castle. I-"_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________"Trevor," Sypha said, her tone gentle yet sure as steel, "Dracula is dead."_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________"You're here," Adrian added, with an edge to his voice that might have been sarcasm, "how could he be otherwise?"_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________This should, by all rights, have been a relief. Until this point, Trevor would not have said that he had doubted that his family would defeat Dracula. He had faith in his father, in Sonia._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________Just not, he was beginning to realize, in himself._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________"You mean I-?"_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________"Well, it was all three of us, really." Sypha spoke like it was an academic problem, almost casual but for the smug upward twitch of her mouth._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________"Mostly me," Adrian added._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________"That's debatable," Sypha protested, with the air of someone joining a long fought argument, "Trevor and I-"_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________"Just because you were there for the final blow," Adrian turned his nose up at her, obviously enjoying himself, "does not mean-"_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________"It counts, it obviously counts," Sypha cuts him off, somehow seeing the end of the sentence before he can get there. "Trevor, back me up!"_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________Both of them look at him expectantly, but-_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________It's impossible to fathom. The ancient enemy of his family, one he'd half-believed was a myth, despite all the writings to the contrary, dead. At least in part by his hand._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________Defeating Dracula was a job for the ancestors, for his father, for a fearless hero destined to be written in the stars. Not for Trevor, better with a book than a sword, whose palms sweated and hands shook._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________"I don't-" Trevor's throat closed around the words, but the others seemed to take his meaning._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________Adrian's mouth ticked downwards. "That will complicate things," he said, ominously._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________"Adrian?" Sypha was frowning too, though Trevor thought it might have been out of pity._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________"I may have a solution to our problem," the vampire said, and Trevor felt his stomach churn, relief and dread in equal measure._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I live! At least for right now.


End file.
